


Under My Skin

by 10moonymhrivertam



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: AU, But just with the skin thing, Filled Prompt, M/M, Mood Ring, Mood Skin, Originally on Livejournal, Otherwise it follows canon as closely as possible, doctorfan10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-21
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-11-26 09:44:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/649246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/10moonymhrivertam/pseuds/10moonymhrivertam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For this prompt on the Kink Meme:</p>
<p>In a universe where people's emotions and emotional well being are reflected by a person's skin colour or tone, Sherlock just has one small ring that he keeps well hidden.</p>
<p>It's a solid black for a long time, but the more time he spends with John, the more the black disappears and the more intuned with his emotions he gets, and then eventually, the ring starts growing and spreading. </p>
<p>Bonus:-<br/>The lack of "mood skin" is rare but not completely unheard of<br/>Mycroft's "mood skin" is faint and more often than not, doesn't reflect his true emotions.<br/>Sherlock's mood "ring" is not on the back of his hand (nor anywhere explicit).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Study In Pink (Or maybe in Shock-Blanket Orange)

Sherlock tromped up the steps to 221B, trailing behind John.

"Told you that Chinese was good." He taunted, eyeing John's sky-blue color and deeming it contentment.

"Oh, stuff it." John said. Sherlock imagined the other man rolling his eyes.

"Never."

They continued, now in silence, and John went further upstairs, throwing Sherlock an absent 'good night'. 

Sherlock retreated into his own room and perched upon his bed. He began to slowly remove his shirt, looking at the wall. When he was done, he stood and went to his mirror. There, on the left side of his chest, was a ring of color - Mood Skin, like normal people had - like Mycroft had. And while his older brother's might be a more complete coverage, Sherlock knew it was deceptive.

However, Sherlock had never bothered with being deceptive - for one thing, there'd never really been an emotion to be deceptive about, and for another, if there had, there'd have been no way for someone to see it. But ever since he and John had spoken, earlier that night, about John's shooting of the cabbie, there had been a pins-and-needles feeling in that ring of skin.

And now black was shot through with thin streaks of shock-blanket orange, branching out like lightning.  
He, of course, knew immediately what this color meant, and so he couldn't help but admire the irony that the ring was around his heart.

It meant that he was in love. It meant that he was in love with John Watson. 

"Fuck." He said quietly to himself before heading to bed.


	2. The Blind Banker (And the Jealous Detective)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Follows Blind Banker - dear Sherly is jealous of Sarah.

It took a while after being kidnapped by General Shang for John's Mood Skin to solidify into a single color, rather than a marbled pattern of turmoil, and a while after that, despite John's obvious exhaustion, to coax him into bed. Sherlock noted, absently, that when John was properly tired, his skin turned neutral, like most of Sherlock's own, though quite a bit more tanned.

Once Sherlock had convinced John to go to bed, he retired to his own room. He locked the door and shed his shirt as he walked towards his mirror - something that had been becoming a routine, it seemed. Since the last case, the small patch on his chest seemed to have slowly succumbed to an ever-shifting form of Mood Skin. A good deal of said Mood Skin was love-struck, shock-blanket orange, these days, but tonight, it was marbled through with a jealous forest green, and lightning strikes of fearful neutral, a tired ring of midnight blue, barely distinguishable from the ring of black that still outlined what he tended to call his Mood Ring. And it all rested over his heart.

He rubbed, frowning, at the Ring. He sighed at the irony and retired to bed, hoping that when he awoke, it be back to a simple orange and black - although, he realized with a slight sinking feeling, neither John nor Sarah had formally dumped the other...damn. The green would still be there in the morning.


	3. The Great Game (And the Growing Mood Ring)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Follows The Great Game

Lately, Sherlock hadn't been feeling the changes his Mood Ring made. He knew it had been marbled furiously all day, but he only knew that because he was running through several emotions that day.

Now, though....oh, now it stung. He knew why, though. For the first time in weeks, it was one, solid color. Sherlock knew innately that it was neutral - non-Mood-Skin tone - because neutral signaled, in him, terror, and all he could focus on at the moment was fear for John. He couldn't even quite be angry with Moriarty, not now.

When Moriarty left, it stung again, and he knew that his love-orange had returned, combined with a burnt-orange shade of relief, still marbled with the neutral terror, speckled through with his tired midnight-blue, and the whole thing throbbed in time with his heart.

And then Moriarty returned, and it was back to full, stinging terror, and it didn't seem to be throbbing anymore. And then he left to work with another client. The flooding back of other emotions and colors wasn't as instant this time, but the throbbing seemed stronger, even though it wasn't more frequent. He rubbed absently at it and went to John's side. John asked if he was alright, nodding to his hand. He nodded and dropped the hand, and they talked about a few other things on the way out, waving a little to on-the-phone Mycroft. Sherlock had to do a double-take, given that Mycroft's Mood Skin was, for one, vivid and marbled. He and John quickly fled back home.

Several hours later, Sherlock retired to his room, beginning his daily Mood Ring check, now a regular part of his bedtime routine. He froze, however, as soon as he saw his reflection. He stared in fear or awe, and neutral struck through it, indicating fear.

But the colors weren't a big deal tonight. What was wrong tonight was the size. Prior to tonight, if Sherlock had touch his thumb and middle finger together, the gap was approximately the size of his mood ring. But now it took up nearly half his chest - he would need to use both hands to approximate the size, now. Suddenly he realized what the throbbing had meant. A black outline had reappeared, despite the fact that sometime before the beginning of the case, the orange had fought it and won. Sherlock continued to stare at himself, and finally he turned away and dressed for bed.

"Damn you, John Watson," he said softly to himself. "This is all your fault."


	4. Scandal in Belgravia (Introducing the Pink-Green of Embarrassed Jealousy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JOHN'S POV
> 
> Follows Scandal in Belgravia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PAY ATTENTION, PEOPLE! IT'S JOHN'S POINT OF VIEW THIS TIME!

Ever since that day where John had made that sarcastic quip about baby names, he knew there was a jealous dark green marbling his skin, and he was sure Sherlock knew what it meant, as he kept looking at John strangely, as though wondering who John could possibly be jealous of.

Of course, those looks caused John to be embarrassed, a pink tinge making itself known. More odd looks. More pink. Soon, Sherlock stopped giving him the odd looks, knowing that if he didn't stop, the pink would take over John's skin.

All this made John jealous for an entirely different reason - John could not see how Sherlock was feeling except by the expression on his face, which could be faked easily enough.  
/Sherlock should be glad,/ John grumbled to himself, /that he doesn't have Mood Skin./

**

Throughout the case, John's jealousy of Irene continued to show and his embarrassment over that did, as well, the pink outlining the green. But soon enough, Irene was gone, and Sherlock had stopped sulking over her, and all was well again. John's Mood Skin quickly returned to more typical colors. Life was good.


	5. The Hounds of Baskerville (John's in lurrrrve)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still John's POV
> 
> Follows Hounds.

John lay in bed after the Baskerville case, staring up at his ceiling and feeling vaguely frustrated with Sherlock and envious of his lack of Mood Skin.

John was sure that if Sherlock had Mood Skin and that John had seen it, John would've caught on a lot quicker to Sherlock's attempt to drug him with coffee. John wondered briefly what color Sherlock's guilt would be, but didn't dwell on it.

John groaned softly and turned over, burying his head in his pillow. He was struck with the sudden urge to know what all Sherlock's colors would be - Sherlock's terror and Sherlock's friendship, his contentment and ill-temper. But John would never get that, he knew, so it would be pointless to wish.

John, after a moment of trying to dismiss the thought of colors from his mind, realized Sherlock had been acting odd lately, especially after they'd solved the case. Sherlock had been rubbing his chest, an uncomfortable look on his face. Sherlock didn't seem to be in pain, but he did seem bewildered or emotionally distressed. John wished he knew why. He sighed and tried to drift off to sleep, focusing on the sweet notes being pulled out of the violin downstairs.


	6. The Reichenbach Falls (So does Sherlock)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SHERLOCK'S POV AGAIN
> 
> Follows Reichenbach.
> 
> Mentions Molly's cat at the end. XD

It had been on the back of Sherlock’s mind that his mood ring - well, _splotch_ now, he supposed, as it covered his entire chest, bleeding down into the rest of his abdomen - hadn’t been growing lately. It both relieved and disturbed him that he felt it surge to cover more of his torso when he realized what Moriarty needed to do to complete his plan. Moriarty just needed him to die in disgrace, as a coward....he needed Sherlock to kill himself.

Sherlock carefully continued to plan, and continued to feel it bleeding around to cover his torso and back.

And now Sherlock was standing on the roof, talking to John, feeling immensely relieved that none of his exposed skin had been affected yet.

Painful memories drifted across his awareness: The cabbie, knowing his weakness for the right sort of results. 

_“I’m not going to kill you, Mr. Holmes. I’m going to talk to you, and then you’re going to kill yourself.”_ It made sense that the man was one of Moriarty’s lackeys - Moriarty had used that exact method on him.

Sherlock’s own words during that case came across him again. _“If you were dying, if you’d been murdered, in your very last few seconds, what would you say?”_

Sherlock had thought then that his answer would be ‘give them a clue’. But it wasn’t. His answer, which made his Mood Skin throb terribly, was “Goodbye, John.”

And then, he was falling.

********

Sherlock sat in Molly’s sitting room, his head buried in his hands.

“They’ll appreciate it, Sherlock. Really, they will. You’ve done it to keep them safe.”

And then the man with night-black Mood Skin, dark clothes and dark hair was glaring up at her, and she shut up and pretended not to notice that he softened slightly when her cat, Toby, climbed into his lap.


	7. The Man in the Park

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post!Reichenbach
> 
> John spots a man in the park with black Mood Skin.

John’s Mood Skin was dark, lately, but not black. So it surprised him to see, in the park, a man with Mood Skin so dark that John could hardly distinguish his features. The man was smoking, staring up at some point behind John. After a moment of scrutiny, John realized the man had sharp cheekbones and far-apart eyes. With a pang and a flash of shock-blanket orange darting across his skin, he realized the looks reminded him of Sherlock. Looks he used to think made the man seem alien and had slowly worked it’s way into John’s ‘gorgeous’ category.

The man seemed to notice John’s scrutiny, his eyes falling to meet John’s. The stranger’s eyes widened and a pale orange that seemed to signal recognition shot across his skin, followed quickly by the black fading slightly. The man looked down and breathed deeply and shut his eyes and the black went back, though it didn’t become as deep as before.

Then there was noise. Panic. The man was going down, a shocked blue shooting over his skin as red that was most definitely not due to his skin started to seep onto his shirt. John snapped into action, rushing forward and pulling out his phone.

He was calling emergency services and trying to put pressure on the wound. He started to peel the man’s shirt off, but the man protested with a deep grunt, one hand coming up to hold his shirt to his chest.

“Too bad,” John growled, knocking his hand away and continuing to unbutton the shirt. He only half-noticed the ring of orange around the man’s heart, too busy to really register it. But when the ambulance had came and then took the man to the hospital, John slowly started to put the pieces together.

The orange was the same, shock-blanket shade that signaled his love for Sherlock - mutual love did tend to be the same color is both parties, and it was very rare to find someone with the same color love otherwise....Sherlock had always been very protective of his chest....Sherlock’s brother had Mood Skin, albeit deceptive Mood Skin. The man had recognized him, and started to feel...something. But what? John wished he knew.

John got on the phone to Lestrade to tell him about the whole thing. Lestrade told him they’d had an anonymous tip about this shooter in the same style as two other wanted snipers. They’d caught the man just after he got off the shot. Lestrade had noticed the commotion and was coming. John told him not to bother, that the man who had been shot was gone, and John was going to go and attempt to visit him in the hospital.


	8. Orange kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo for dumb chapter titles! So....here's the last part of it. Hope you've all had fun reading. ^_^

Sherlock groggily lifted a hand to his eyes and examined the color. Midnight blue. Tired. Made sense - after all, he’d been shot. There was a sudden movement as a red hand caught his own. His eyes followed the red hand to the sleeve of a jumper, and the sleeve of a jumper along an arm along a shoulder to a red neck, and then his eyes slowly fell upon a red face, looking into terribly familiar blue eyes.

“You lied,” he said, his voice soft and irritated. Sherlock’s brain scrambled to remember what John’s red skin meant. Not furious, he decided. It meant a softer emotion, thankfully - something that was between somewhat irritated and actually angry. Swirls of something else, Sherlock noted now. A purple relief.

“I do have a tendency to do that, I suppose,” he said softly, his voice hoarse from disuse and smoking. He couldn’t bring himself to try and tug his hand away.

“You’ve got Mood Skin,” he pointed out as well, entwining his fingers with Sherlock’s. Sherlock’s eyes moved to focus on them.

“Such a complete coverage is a recent development,” he admitted.

“How recent? What did it used to be like?” John demanded.

“Three years ago. A ring.”

“Around your heart?”

Sherlock looked down at his own chest and then toward the window, disentangling his hand from John’s.

“You weren’t supposed to see that.”

“I love you, too, you big git,” John grumbled. Sherlock’s eyes widened and he looked back, only to see a shock-blanket orange covering John’s cheeks like a blush.

Sherlock reached up to grip John’s collar. John’s eyes widened.

Sherlock leaned up and John was pulled down and then their lips met. Near instantly, both of them were entirely shock-blanket orange, and neither of them could bring themselves to think, just this once, of how people might talk.


End file.
